


All the Walls of Dreaming

by bellatrixblacke



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mystery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-06-22 01:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15570282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellatrixblacke/pseuds/bellatrixblacke
Summary: Months before Bill Denbrough’s eleventh birthday, his brother was mysteriously attacked, leaving him a shadow of what he once was. Now, with the help of an old friend and a few new ones, Bill was going to take his time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to find a way to save him.





	1. Year One: Bill

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! A few quick notes before we get to the story (please be advised that some of them might contain light spoilers for the fic):
> 
> I'd like to thank Lils for always lending me an ear, and the whole fam squad for being an amazing support system. I love all of you.  
> Title comes from Florence and the Machine's "Blinding".  
> Since we are dealing with a Hogwarts AU, I know sorting might be a deal-breaker for some, so here are the sortings for all Losers: Bill and Beverly: Gryffindor / Eddie and Stan: Slytherin / Mike and Ben: Ravenclaw / Richie: Hufflepuff  
> As concerning the ship tags, I have already tagged all of the ships which will appear during the fic, though they might take a while to develop. Both Billverly and Benverly are tagged, but Benverly will be the endgame.  
> This fic will be told in seven parts, one for each Hogwarts year and told by the perspective of one of the seven Losers. We begin with Bill.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

"Hurry up, Eddie dear, or we're gonna miss the train!"

It was still only half past ten am, but leave it to Mrs. Kaspbrak to fret. She hurried along King's Cross station, dragging her son Eddie by the wrist, Eddie in his turn dragging his large trunk in his other hand, fighting fiercely not to fall over in his awkward sprint.

Bill Denbrough and his parents lagged behind, walking at a slower, more reasonable pace. While Mrs. Kaspbrak talked a mile a minute, basically reciting Eddie's (and every other first-year student's) Hogwarts letter to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything, Bill's parents remained silent, leisurely traipsing toward platform nine and three quarters ahead of Bill. The pair walked as if engaging in a morning stroll, something they did every Tuesday morning. This particular walk, however, had nothing routine about it, for they were leading their son to the moment he had been waiting for all his life: going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"And your wand, of course. Have you got your wand, Eddie?"

"Yes, Mum," Eddie replied with a weariness that suggested that he had given her this same answer numerous times already. He opened the right side of his robes and showed her that he had, indeed, not forgotten his wand - it sat neatly in a holster he had attached to his waist. Then Eddie turned his head back and rolled his eyes at Bill, who smiled slightly in return. In reality, Bill would much rather that his parents fussed over him like Mrs. K did, instead of dealing with their unwavering impassiveness. At least then he would know they cared about him.

The group at last reached the wall between platforms nine and ten. They slowed to a stop, the Kaspbraks still ahead.

"All right, Eddie, you go first,” said Mrs. Kaspbrak. “Remember, the wall can't hurt you, you don't have to be afraid."

Bill thought he heard Eddie murmur "I'm _not_ afraid", and then he was running straight through the wall and disappearing.

Mrs. Kaspbrak followed right after her son, and then only the Denbroughs were left at the Muggle side of the platform. The Muggles passed by them, unaware of anything out of the ordinary such as people walking through solid walls. Bill gazed at his parents and realised just how similar their vacant gaze was to the Muggles', even though they were sorcerers themselves. They had no words of encouragement to Bill as he too raced through the brick wall.

At the platform nine and three quarters, students were making their final preparations before the Hogwarts Express left at eleven o'clock sharp. Some of them were stowing away luggage, others were talking excitedly to friends and family. Over at the other side of the platform, Bill saw a student clad in Ravenclaw-blue robes transfigure a live pixie into a pin cushion and stuff it in his robes' pocket.

Mrs. Kaspbrak was still blabbering on to an increasingly annoyed Eddie.

"You don't have to go, you know that, don't you Eddie? I can teach you every spell you need to know. We can leave now and be back at home in time for supper."

Eddie leaned up and kissed her on the cheek. "I'm going, all right, Mum? We've talked about this. I'll see you at Christmas, it's not that far away."

Mrs. Kaspbrak looked for a second like she wanted to argue further, but she settled for straightening Eddie's hair with a clammy hand. "Well, all right, but remember that if it's too hard, you can come back anytime you like, okay? And write me every day..."

Mrs. Kaspbrak was still talking, but Eddie was already making his way towards the train.

"C'mon Bill, let's get inside before it gets too full. Bye, Mum, I love you!"

Bill turned to his own parents. They hadn't said a word yet, and Bill knew they wouldn't. He leaned forward and gave his mother a hug, then his father. Other than a light pat on the back by his dad, they expressed no reaction. Without looking back, Bill followed Eddie into the train.

Just over the threshold, finally free from their respective parents, Eddie stopped on his tracks and approached Bill, a concerned look on his face.

"You all right, Bill?" 

The answer, both Bill and Eddie knew it, was no. How could it possibly be all right when Bill's parents seemed to have forgotten how to love him? When going to Hogwarts was a relief, if only because then Bill wouldn't have to face their empty stares over the kitchen table every day? If Georgie...

So, no, Bill wasn't all right. But he would make it so. 

"Yeah, 'course, Eh-Eh-Eddie. Cuh-C'mon, let's find a comp-partment." 

There were still a few minutes before departure, so the boys were able to find an empty compartment without searching too much. They settled on opposite sides of it, near the window. Bill stared out at the last minute goodbyes over at the platform, but he could feel Eddie's gaze upon him.

"Listen, Bill, I know this isn't an easy day for you..." Eddie started, but let his speech die out as Bill stood up in a jolt. Bill reached for his trunk, stowed above his seat, and pulled out _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_. Though it was a new book - it was part of the first year curriculum and his parents had bought it for him at Diagon Alley not two months ago - it was already dog-eared in many pages. He sat back down as the train started moving, not looking at Eddie or acknowledging him in any way. There was a chapter on werewolf venom that still eluded him, and he wanted to concentrate on it.

"Seriously? That book again?" Eddie huffed, crossing his arms. "We haven't even started term yet and I bet you've read it cover to cover more than once. You're gonna be bored out of your mind in the DADA classes if you learn it all before we even get there, you know."

Bill didn't reply so the compartment was silent for a few minutes, aside from the occasional ruffling of pages (from Bill) and heavy sighing (from Eddie).

The silence was interrupted only when the compartment door was loudly slid open and a boy, possibly their age, came in. 

"'Morning, lads! Mind if I join ya? It's been a bloody nightmare trying to find a carriage."

The boy didn't wait for their reply, already moving forward to stow his trunk then practically throwing himself in the seat beside Eddie's. He wasn't yet in his wizard robes, instead sporting a weird combination of a floral print shirt and bright yellow shorts. He looked like he either had come straight from a beach vacation, or else was doing a fairly poor job of dressing as a Muggle.

"Are you first years too?" he asked, taking note of Bill and Eddie's plain black robes, which didn't showcase any House colours. "That's brilliant. What House d'you reckon you'll be in?" 

Eddie was staring at the boy with his mouth slightly open and eyes slightly bulging, as if coming to the newfound conclusion that someone could have a loud personality. After a moment, he blinked out of his stupor and addressed the boy at last:

"I'm sorry, but who are you?"

The boy gave a short, boisterous laugh and adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses. "Terribly sorry, chaps, where are my manners? Richie Tozier's the name. And what about you?"

"I'm Edward Kaspbrak, and this is my friend -"

"I'm Bill," Bill finished for him.

"Friend?" Richie repeated, stretching out his legs to lay them on the seat next to Bill's. "You two know each other already or something?"

"Yes, Bill and I have know each other our whole lives, really," it was Eddie again who responded. "We grew up together in Derry."

Richie perked up at the mention of their hometown. "Wait, that magic village in Northern Ireland? Isn't that the most -"

"Cursed village in the entire United Kingdom? Yeah, that's the one," Bill finished his sentence in a dull tone, which allowed him to bypass his stutter. He turned his gaze back on his book, already disinterested in the conversation.

" _Wicked_ ," said Richie with a grin. "What's it like there?"

"Cursed," was all Bill replied.

Bill still had his eyes glued to his book, so Richie was left to raise his eyebrows at Eddie 

" _Any_ way," Richie continued, "you haven't told me where you want to be sorted yet, Eds."

"I prefer Eddie, actually.” Eddie straightened up in his seat, leaning away from Richie. “And I don't know..." He paused and glanced at Bill - or, rather, at Bill's forehead, for it was the only part of his face not covered by the book he was holding. "I don't really care, as long as it's the same as Bill's." 

Bill and Eddie had had this exact conversation many times over the years, of course. Bill's answer always changed: sometimes he wanted to be a Ravenclaw, like both of his parents, or a Gryffindor, because his favourite colour was red. For about a year, he wanted to be a Slytherin because that was the House of the lead singer from his favourite band, _The Ghastly_ _Ghouls_. Eddie's response, however, never wavered, and though Bill had heard it many times before, it never failed to warm his heart quicker than a sip of butterbeer.

The compartment was quiet for the first time since Richie had barged in. Bill lowered his book an inch to see what had happened and found Richie openly staring at a red-faced Eddie. 

" _What_?" Eddie demanded after a few more seconds of being intensely scrutinised.

Richie shook his head as if to unscramble his thoughts. "Nothing, it's just that that was the cutest thing I've ever heard. You're a real hoot, Eds.”

"Shut up!" Eddie complained, though his cheeks seemed to have reddened even more. Bill raised his book back up so Eddie wouldn't see the mirth in his eyes.

"What about you, then? What House d'you wanna be in?" Eddie asked. 

Richie shrugged one shoulder. "Don't know, really. Anywhere but Ravenclaw. Those guys like to study out of their own free will, can you imagine?" He scrunched up his face and stuck out his tongue in the same way some kids did when forced to eat Brussels sprouts. 

The cabin fell into silence again, but apparently Richie didn't deal well with keeping quiet for too long, for he sprung into speech one more time: 

"What's with the book, Bill? What kinda loser does homework before they're even assigned it?" 

"Excuse me?" Eddie shrilled, not wasting a moment before jumping into Bill's defence. "If you're gonna be a tosser, you can find another place to sit."

Richie raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Calm down, don't get your pants in a twist! I didn't mean it in a bad way. Hell, I'd be the one to talk, I'm the biggest loser there is."

"Well, finally we agree on something," Eddie replied, but he had a small smile on his face.

"I mean it, though," said Richie. "Why are you already reading our course books? Wait, were we supposed to?" His face paled slightly.

Eddie heaved another of his heavy sighs. "No, it's just that Bill's..." Eddie glanced quickly at Bill, who shook his head minutely. "He's really interested in defence magic."

Richie squinted his eyes at both of the other boys, but didn't press the issue further.

The afternoon passed by with the three of them exchanging expectations of what Hogwarts would be like (“I’ve heard it’s got over seventy hidden rooms!” said Richie excitedly), and soon enough Richie had to change into his robes as the train slowed to a stop. They had arrived at Hogsmeade station. 

There was a bit of a tumult as all students tried to exit the train at once, and as a man called for "First year students! First years, with me, please," Bill realised they had lost track of Richie. He and Eddie made their way towards the small boats that would serve as their final transportation to the school. As they were boarding one already occupied by a boy with curly hair, they heard Richie call for them.

"Bill! Eds, wait up!"

He caught up with them a moment later, making their boat swing wildly as he rushed to settle into the vacant seat. The boy with the curly hair gave him the stink eye, but Richie either ignored it or simply didn't notice. Soon enough the boat started moving on its own, and all around them they could hear gasps of awe and excitement as they came within view of the castle. Not even Richie could think of something clever to say in that moment, mouth agape. Bill found himself having to fight back tears. The castle was beautiful, the most amazing thing he had ever seen. And Georgie would never get to see it.

After getting off the boat, they shuffled past the castle's front door and into the Great Hall where the Sorting ceremony would take place. All of the opulence from the castle they had seen from the outside was also present within its walls, and even more; Bill looked up and, even though he had heard of the Great Hall’s enchanted ceiling before, he couldn't help but be mesmerised by it. He wasn't exactly feeling nervous for the Sorting, not any more than a slight excitement to learn where he would spend the next seven years of his life, but beside him he could feel Eddie's arm tremble as it brushed his own. Still not looking down from the mimicked night sky, he reached over and grasped Eddie's hand in his, squeezing it once.

The Sorting started right after the Professor responsible for it gave out the instructions for the process. As "Avalon, Lenora!" and "Blum, Patricia!" were both called into Hufflepuff to the great cheer of one of the tables behind them, Bill let his thoughts wander. It was vital that he should take his time at Hogwarts to learn all that he could on Dark Magic. Of course, he would start on the books they had on defence, but after that, he would have to go straight to the source. It would all be much easier if he gained the confidence of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, who could give him access to knowledge he probably wouldn't be able to obtain on his own. His eyes skimmed the professors' table in front of him, trying to gauge out which of them could be the DADA professor.

When his eyes locked with a pair of mismatched ones, he felt a sharp nudge to his ribs.

"Denbrough, William!" the professor in charge of Sorting called out in an exasperated voice, and Bill realised with some embarrassment that it was not the first time he had been called. He looked sideways at Eddie (who had elbowed him to get his attention), nodded curtly and made his way forward. 

He sat on the small stool and, as the Sorting Hat was placed upon his head, took a deep breath, trying to clear his thoughts.

"Well, what have we got here?" the Sorting Hat seemed to speak directly into his mind. "A lot of anger, I see, and a dangerous kind of rebellion... Best to put you in-"

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat shouted out to the entire room, and as soon as it was removed from his head, Bill made his way to the table on the extreme left of the room, closest to the door. He heard greetings from his fellow Housemates as he sat down, though he could also hear a few whispered mumblings, people staring at him and repeating his surname to each other with unsure voices. He ignored them all and turned sideways to watch the rest of the ceremony. Over at the group of first years still waiting to be sorted, he saw Richie lean in to whisper something to Eddie, who shook his head and said nothing.

A few more children were sorted, including one case of a hatstall - Michael Hanlon sat there for just over seven minutes before the Hat announced him as a Ravenclaw. Then it was time for Eddie. Bill stretched his neck to see better, and in the split second before Eddie's eyes were hooded by the Hat, they met his. He hoped their brief exchange had been enough for him to convey to his friend that, no matter what, they would be fine.

The Great Hall was quiet for a few instants, waiting for the Hat to make its decision. Then, suddenly, it shouted "SLYTHERIN!" and Eddie sort of stumbled towards the table across the room from Bill's. His face was slack, so when their gaze met again Bill made sure to smile and raise both hands in a thumbs-up motion. Eddie, still shellshocked, only blinked back.

The rest of the Sorting went by uneventfully. Richie was placed into Hufflepuff, and he gave Bill a small shrug before sitting at his new table. "Uris, Stanley!", the boy with the curly hair who had sat with them at the boat, was the last one to be sorted, and as he joined Eddie at the Slytherin table, the professor in charge of the ceremony moved the Hat and stool away. The headmaster rose to give them a brief welcome speech, then they were at last treated to the Welcome Feast. Bill, serving himself a healthy portion of shepherd's pie, couldn't help but notice that it was the first time in a long time since he had eaten among such lively company. It made the food seem even more delicious, and he ate a second serving with gusto.

At the end of the feast, he had one last chance to talk to Eddie before they were lead to their respective dormitories by their House prefects.

Eddie had been talking with another Slytherin, and his face fell as Bill approached him.

"Hey, Eh-Eh-Eddie! Congratul-lations on getting in S-Slytherin! You'll be b-brilliant," Bill said, trying to liven his mood as best he could.

"Thanks, Bill, you too," Eddie replied in a small voice. "Listen, I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," Bill cut him off before he could finish. "It's f-fine. I'll suh-see you t-tomorrow, y-yeah?"

They were starting to walk in different directions, so Eddie only nodded and waved, then turned a corner and was gone. Bill followed his own group and after a few flights of stairs they arrived at the Gryffindor common room. The atmosphere was incredibly cosy, with warm colours decorating curtains and armchairs and heat coming from the fireplace. Tiredness crashed into Bill all of a sudden. He made his way up the stairs to his dormitory on heavy limbs, and was out as soon as he hit the bed.

* * *

 

The next morning, Bill was in the process of spreading butter on his breakfast toast when someone threw themselves into the seat beside his, making his cutlery jump an inch on the table.

"What in the name of Merlin's saggy pants, Bill?" Richie exclaimed, and people around the table threw him dirty glances.

"This is the Guh-Gryffindor table, R-Richie. Yours is t-t-two tables over," Bill replied, calmly munching on his toast.

"Bollocks to that, this is important business," Richie continued. "When you told me yesterday you were from Derry, did it ever occur to you to tell me you were from the _Denbrough_ family?"

Richie was still talking in a loud voice, and now more people from the table were staring at them curiously. Bill chose to believe it was only because there was an intruder at their table, and not because they were interested in what Richie had said. In any case, Bill would rather not give them a spectacle.

"Listen, can we t-talk about this luh-later? It's too early to be interrog-gated."

"So you don't deny it, then!" Richie stage-whispered, to little effect. He was apparently incapable of not drawing attention.

Bill rolled his eyes at his poor attempt at inconspicuousness, then stood up, grabbing his half-eaten toast with one hand and Richie's robes with the other. 

"C'mon, I've seen my sh-schedule and I know Gryffindors share Ch-Charms class with the Huh-Hufflepuffs." 

They walked in silence to the Charms classroom, too worried about taking a wrong turn and getting lost. As soon as they reached their destination, however, Richie went off again.

"Are you not gonna tell me, or what?"

"You r-r-really don't give up, duh-do you?"

"Nope." Richie had a big grin on his face, made even bigger by his buck teeth. Bill couldn't help but smile back. He finished off his toast to hide it.

"A-All right, we'll talk during l-lunch. Now hush, I nuh-need to pay attention to c-class."

Bill and Richie shared not only Charms class, but also their following one of History of Magic. This one didn't really interest Bill, so as their professor droned on about the defection of Eardwulf the Rogue, Richie managed to distract him with games of hangman played on a spare bit of parchment. Richie won most rounds, though he refused to accept defeat on the last one ("Who even knows what a Horklump is?"). His hangman joined in the rant, waving his stick arms indignantly.

As the bell rang, they rushed back to the Great Hall. 

"Wuh-Wait here," Bill said, leaving Richie by the door. He proceeded to go to Gryffindor's table, pile six sandwiches, and grab a jug of pumpkin juice. Cautiously holding onto the food, he started walking back towards Richie with light steps. Halfway through, he stopped and looked back at the furthest table. He found Eddie without much trouble: he was near the corner, excitedly talking to Stanley Uris. Stanley, more restrained, said something which made Eddie explode into laughter. 

There was no need to bring Eddie into this, Bill thought. He knew it all already. Bill turned back around and walked the last steps until he met an eagerly awaiting Richie, who took the jug from him.

"Okay, let's g-go."

They took their sandwiches to eat outside, taking advantage of the last drags of summer. They stopped by a tree somewhere between the castle and the Great Lake, sitting with their backs on its ample trunk. Bill hadn't even had time to recognise the filling on his sandwich before Richie had launched off with a round of quick-fire questions.

"So, are you really a Denbrough from the Denbrough case? Did it really happen like they said in the papers? What even _was_ it-"

"Will you g-g-give it a r-rest?" Bill had to shout so that Richie would hear him over his own excited spiel. "One cuh-question at a time."

Richie heaved a huge breath, adjusted his glasses on his face, and started again.

"What happened?" he managed to comprise all of his questions into an all-encompassing one. That was fine by Bill, because he had no intention of hiding anything, but it meant he had to start from the beginning. And so he did.

"A few m-months ago, I caught d-dragon pox. My p-parents didn't want Juh-Juh... My brother to catch it t-too, so they s-sent him to play on his o-own. It was r-raining, so I made him a puh-paper boat to p-play with, and my dad enchanted it to st-tay d-dry. He went to play with that b-b-boat, and when we f-f-found him again, he... Huh-Huh-He..."

Bill took a bite of his sandwich (it turned out to be ham and cheese) so he could justify not having to speak. By his side, Richie had opted to play with the crusts of his own food, still leaving it otherwise untouched. 

"Your brother... George, that's his name, right?" 

Bill only nodded, the large bite of sandwich going down hard on his dry throat.

"Was he... Kissed by a Dementor?" 

Bill knew that was what _The Daily Prophet_ had reported about his brother's attack. And yes, when they found Georgie, laying on the ground with open, unblinking eyes staring at the sky, that seemed to have been the logical conclusion. But there were no cold spots sighted on the area that day, and no one in their neighbourhood had claimed to have seen a cloaked figure hover anywhere near the place Georgie had been playing.

"They suh-seem to th-think so," was what Bill ended up responding.

Richie caught onto his vagueness, however. "But... You don't think so."

"A-All I know is that one day Juh-Georgie was laughing and p-playing like a normal kid, and nuh-now he's in a bed at St. M-Mungos and doesn't recognise us a-a-anymore!"

He threw the rest of his sandwich at the Great Lake. There was a motion in the water coming from underneath the surface, as if something was moving, then the sandwich was dragged down and disappeared.

Richie stretched his arm to lay his hand on Bill's shoulder. He patted it twice, then moved it back and made a grab for his own sandwich, eating it at last. He swallowed audibly and took a swig of juice before speaking again.

"I'm really sorry, Big Bill. Do you think he'll recover?"

Bill knew Richie was only saying it to be polite. As the Mediwizards from St. Mungos had told his parents when they admitted Georgie into the hospital, people don't heal from a Dementor's Kiss. You remained alive, but from that moment on, you were nothing more than an empty shell. No thoughts, no emotions. Just an unblinking, vacant face of a little boy, which once held only warmth and love. 

But... There hadn't been any indication of a dementor on the scene. That meant there was a chance, however small, that it hadn't been one at all to have attacked his little brother. Bill grasped at that chance with a vice grip.

"I don't know," was what he eventually told Richie, "but now I'm at H-Hogwarts, I'm going to make sh-sure I learn about eh-eh-every bit of dark magic so I can f-figure out how to s-s-save Georgie."

Richie contemplated Bill for a long moment, something like admiration gleaming behind the thick lenses of his glasses. Then, he snapped his fingers hard, the sound startling Bill.

"What if we practise duelling?” said Richie, now pointing directly at Bill’s face as if in accusation. “Wizards have to know a whole lot of spells and enchantments for that. It'd be a great way for us to reach all areas of magic at once."

Bill was stunned silent. All his life he'd had Eddie by his side, the two of them going through any crazy idea they'd had for the day, always together. But since Bill had first related to him his plan of looking for the thing that had attacked Georgie, Eddie had seemed reluctant. Whenever Bill called him over so they could go through his parents' limited library, or formulate theories on what could have happened that fateful day, Eddie didn't want to come along. The last time Bill tried, Eddie had gone on a shouting rampage, upset that it was the last summer the two would have together before Hogwarts and they weren't enjoying it. What he didn't understand was that Bill didn't have it in him to enjoy anything while the thing that attacked his brother still roamed free.

So, to hear Richie offer so freely to help him, it was all he wouldn't have dared to ask for. Nonetheless, it was still too soon for them to make any sort of concrete advancement, their knowledge of practical magic basically nonexistent. He relayed those concerns to Richie.

"Yeah, you're right," Richie conceded. They stood up from their place by the tree and dusted breadcrumbs off their robes. "We haven't even had our first Defence class yet." 

That very class was the one Bill was betting most of his chips on. Ideally, he was hoping that the professor would take him under their wing, but even if that didn't happen he would be glad to just be able to learn as much as possible.

... And maybe extract a little bit of extracurricular knowledge now and then.

The two boys reached the huge oak doors that marked the castle's entry and turned to face one another. 

"I'm actually headed to Defence now," Richie said. "What about you?"

Bill checked the parchment in which he had his class schedule annotated. "I've got Transf-f-figuration."

"See you later, then," Richie said, heading towards the stairs. Bill went left, as Transfiguration class was held on the ground floor. Just before he turned a corner, he heard Richie call out for him from the top of the stairs. 

"Don't have too much fun without me!"

* * *

 

Bill endured a tedious hour of practising wand movements for a spell to turn a hairpin into a button, and then it was finally time for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

As he reached the corridor in the North Tower in which that class was held, he met Eddie by the entrance of the classroom, waiting for him. 

"Huh-hey th-there," Bill greeted him jovially, still trying to lift Eddie’s spirits. "Green looks g-g-good on you."

Eddie smiled bashfully and fidgeted with his green-and-silver tie.

"Thanks. I bet you're real happy you get to wear red," he said, and they both laughed. 

Eddie sobered up first, and threw Bill a glance from under his lashes (though he was a couple of months older, Eddie was a head shorter than him). "Are you... Upset that we didn't end up in the same House?"

Bill knew that Eddie was really asking if he was upset that he, Eddie, hadn't been put in the same House as him. It was a bit of a bummer, of course, as Bill would have loved to see Eddie every day for class, and relax afterward in one of the many comfortable armchairs in the Gryffindor's common room. But he knew if he said that, Eddie would only be consumed by guilt, so he gave him an answer which was no less true, though perhaps a bit sweetened. 

"'Course n-not," said Bill. "It would've been wuh-way too messy for us to sh-share a dorm anyway. I know you h-hate it when I leave dirty s-socks lying around." He bumped his shoulder into Eddie's, who seemed to relax a bit. "L-Let's go in and find some s-s-seats." 

They entered the classroom and got a desk together near the back of the room. They didn't have to wait long until the professor came in through a door near the blackboard.

It was the same man Bill had seen during the previous night's feast. He was not old, though both his brown beard and wavy hair were speckled with strands of grey. He had a kind, yet mischievous smile on his face, and his hands glistened with many gold rings. His most striking feature, however, were his eyes: the left one was blue, whereas the right was bright green. 

The professor clapped his hands once, his rings making a clattering noise as they clashed against one another.

"Good afternoon, students! My name is Professor Gallagher, and I will be your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," he announced in a cheerful tone.

While the class responded with a "Good afternoon, professor Gallagher" in a monotone chorus, Bill turned to Eddie and raised his eyebrows, trying to gauge his opinion on the man. Eddie smiled sympathetically at him, and Bill could feel his own enthusiasm bubbling up inside of him. If his initial demeanour was to be believed, Professor Gallagher could very well be what he was looking for. 

The class passed by in a wink, and as soon as the bell rang for its end, Bill shoved his ink bottle, quill, and parchment into his bag and walked to the front of the room where the professor was also tidying his materials.

"Eh-eh-excuse me, Professor," Bill started, a bit breathless from his short dash across the room as well as from excitement.

"Oh, hello there," Professor Gallagher replied amicably. "Denbrough, is it?"

"Yes, s-sir," Bill nodded vigorously. "I just wanted to th-thank you for a brilliant luh-lesson."

Professor Gallagher gave a short laugh. 

"I think that's the first time I've seen someone quite that excited about the Wand-Lightning Charm," he said.

In truth, there was not much to be titillated in learning _Lumos_ , but Bill wanted to make a good first impression.

"No, sir, that was ruh-really g-g-great."

"Well, thank you, my boy." Professor Gallagher gave him a final smile and walked out from the same backdoor he had come in from.

When Bill reached the corridor outside the classroom, he once again found Eddie leaned against the wall. 

"So, how'd it go buttering up the professor?"

Bill had of course told him during the summer of his plan to get into the Defence professor's good graces, but he didn't think Eddie still cared about it, considering his rebuttal of all else Bill had conceived since then. 

"It went guh-great," said Bill a little defensively, hitching the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder.

"You've really lucked out this time," said Eddie as they started walking towards the Great Hall for supper. "Professor Gallagher's the Head of Gryffindor, you'll have loads of chances to speak with him."

"W-what do you think is the d-deal with his uh-eyes?" asked Bill.

Eddie shrugged. "Beats me. I've heard someone say that one of them can see right through you, but I don't know if they meant like your thoughts or literally behind your head..." 

The two boys carried on talking until they reached Gryffindor's table in the Great Hall. Eddie almost made to sit down, before he realised he was amid a sea of red robes.

"Sorry... Force of habit, I guess,” he laughed weakly. “I'll see you later, Bill."

Bill saw that Eddie looked despondent for only a moment, and by the time he had reached his own table and sat by his fellow first years, had a careless smile on his face.

* * *

 

Almost two weeks went by before Bill and Richie discussed further plans of becoming experts in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

"What's cooking, Billy my boy?"

Richie had once again approached Bill during meal time. This time, he truly settled in, sitting beside Bill on the long bench and filling an empty plate with spoonful after spoonful of bangers and mash, beginning to eat as if it was the most normal thing for him to be there.

"You do nuh-nuh-know that there are s-separate tables for the H-Houses, right?" said Bill, fondly exasperated.

"Ah, these folks don't mind. Do you mind, my dear?" said Richie, oddly adopting some sort of old man voice as he addressed the girl sitting on his other side. 

"Suh-sorry about that, B-Beverly," said Bill, recognising the girl as another first year student. Bill saw her smile, though, and knew she wasn't bothered. Nevertheless, he grabbed Richie by the shirtsleeves and pulled his attention back to him.

"W-w-what are you d-doing here, R-Richie?" 

Richie actually looked a bit abashed as he answered, "Just wanted to catch up, is all. Oh, look, _catch up_." He grabbed a bottle of ketchup and squirted a dollop of it onto his plate. Bill merely rolled his eyes at him.

"How's it been going with the Defence classes? Are you the teacher's pet yet?" asked Richie.

Bill dejectedly moved peas around on his plate. "Not r-really. I've tried t-talking with him a f-f-few times after class, but he always b-b-blows me off."

Richie "hmmm"ed thoughtfully, either considering what Bill had said or enjoying his mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"You wanna try duelling, then?" Richie asked, though as his mouth was still full of food, it sounded more like " _Hoo wanna fry gooelling, hen?_ "

It wasn't exactly the best idea, but Bill was running out of good ones. Still, he wasn't quite willing to give up on his initial plan.

"Luh-luh-let's wait until C-Christmas holidays. If I huh-haven't made p-p-progress by then, we'll d-do it."

So Bill carried on with his flattering of Professor Gallagher. He made sure to study every topic they would discuss in class beforehand, so that he could always have an answer ready if the teacher were to ask something. At the end of almost every class (not every one, for he didn't want to seem too eager), he praised the professor for a job well done. Every time, Professor Gallagher smiled at him, occasionally granting points to Gryffindor if he managed to answer a tough question. Other than that, however, he remained unmoved by Bill's efforts.

For their last class before the end of the year break, Bill decided it was time to go all in. If he hadn't charmed Professor Gallagher by then, he probably never would. There were only so many different ways you could say "Great job today, professor!", after all.

The bell rang for the end of class, and once again Bill made his by-then familiar way to the teacher's desk. Eddie, already accustomed to Bill's technique, said his goodbyes and followed his Slytherin classmates out of the classroom.

"Hello, Mr. Denbrough," said Professor Gallagher as Bill approached his desk, not looking up from studying his notes. "How did you like today's lesson?"

They had begun practising the _Vermillious_ spell, which erupted red sparks from the end of one's wand. Nothing to write home about, but Bill put on a show anyway. 

"B-b-brilliant, sir."

Professor Gallagher smiled to his notes, still not addressing Bill directly. Bill did not let that deter him, however. He took a deep breath, hoped his stuttering wouldn't act up too much, and trudged on. 

"Professor, I was th-thinking... Would you consider g-giving me eh-eh-extra lessons?"

At this, Professor Gallagher finally raised his eyes to look at Bill. He didn't seem either flattered or annoyed, so Bill continued with his request.

"It's j-just that, your c-classes are so g-g-good, and-"

"Denbrough," Professor Gallagher cut him short. "You're one of the best students in this class. You don't need extra tutoring."

The compliment, the first Professor Gallagher had given him in all those months, was incentive enough for Bill to forge ahead. 

"Y-y-yes, sir, but I was th-thinking that we could take a luh-luh-look at more a-advanced m-magic?" he lilted his speech at the end, an unsure question.

At last, Professor Gallagher expressed any form of reaction: his eyebrows furrowed and his gaze turned sharp. Not for the first time, Bill wondered if the professor's mismatched eyes had any power.

After a long moment, Professor Gallagher sighed.

"You're a first-year, Mr. Denbrough," he said, turning back to his notes. It was a clear indication that the conversation was over. "Make sure you learn the basics before you concern yourself with things you might not know how to handle."

Bill straightened his spine, slightly shocked at the cold dismissal. It was as if someone had put him under the Body-Bind Curse, and for a moment he felt like he couldn't move a muscle. All of his hard work had been for naught; he was on his own. He nodded his head once, more to himself than to the professor, and turned to leave the classroom.

As he reached the door, however, he heard Professor Gallagher call his name. He turned his head around to face him. The soft look on the professor's face managed to somewhat soothe his bruised ego.

"Remember this, Mr. Denbrough," said Professor Gallagher. "No spell is more important than a wizard's character. Build your inner strength."

Bill wasn't sure he quite understood, but he nodded again and finally exited the room.

* * *

 

Winter holidays came and went, and soon enough Bill found himself with his parents and the Kaspbraks at platform 9 ¾ waiting for the Hogwarts Express.

Back in Derry, Bill had had the worst Christmas of his life. Eddie had called him to his house for Christmas dinner, to which Bill politely refused. He hated the thought of sitting down at his home's dining table and seeing Georgie's empty chair, but he hated even more the idea of not being there. It was a pain he thought he needed to feel. The following day, he and his parents Floo'ed to St. Mungos to visit George. His mum had got him a thick woollen jumper, which she dressed Georgie with as he sat motionless on the bed. As for Bill, all he got for Christmas (other than a pack of Honeydukes' Fizzing Whizzbees from Eddie) was a small bag of coins, containing mostly sickles and a few knuts, which he stowed away in the bottom of his trunk. 

"Eddie, darling, don't you take your scarf off, you'll catch cold!" Mrs. Kaspbrak was screaming at Eddie as he and Bill headed once again into the Hogwarts Express. Eddie ignored his mother completely, unwinding his striped green-and-grey scarf from his neck and throwing it haphazardly atop his trunk.

"Lovely woman, that one," they heard a voice behind them on the train's corridor while they searched for an empty carriage. It was Richie, an easy grin on his face as he shuffled along the crowded corridor to meet them.

"Don't you have friends from your own House to talk to, Tozier?" said Eddie, his face a bit red, though it could be from the cold his mother warned him against.

Richie adjusted his glasses, a gesture Bill had noticed he tended to do whenever he was nervous.

"Are you kidding me?" said Richie, his light tone of voice belying his awkwardness. "I share a dorm with triplets - _triplets_! - and a bloke who constantly smells like wet socks. I'd rather just hang with you lot, thanks very much."

"As if you don't smell like a Troll yourself," replied Eddie, though a soft smile threatened to escape from his lips.

Bill opened the door to a carriage which only had one student in it, and was ready to close it back again when Eddie stopped him. 

"Hey, that's Stan! Hi, Stan!" said Eddie, getting into the carriage and sitting beside the curly-haired Slytherin Bill had seen Eddie walk with a few times. "Guys, this is Stanley Uris. Stan, you know Bill, and that's Richie Tozier."

"Hello," said Stan, closing the book he had been reading before the three of them came in. Bill noticed it was _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._  

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, good sir," Richie told Stan in an overly posh accent as he and Bill sat on the other side of the carriage. 

"How was your holiday, Eddie?" Stan turned in his seat to ask him.

"All right, I guess... Mum almost didn't want me to come back, she said I'd already had enough adventure," Eddie replied sullenly.

"Enough adventure at Hogwarts?" Richie repeated in a high-pitched voice. "Hogwash!"

They all fell into laughter. As they calmed down, Richie continued.

"Is your mum a Muggle, then?" 

"Not really," Eddie replied. "She's muggleborn, but she did go to Hogwarts. I suppose she's been scared of magic ever since Dad died, though. He worked for the Committee on Experimental Charms over at the Ministry, and one day when I was five he got caught in the middle of a crossfire." 

"I'm sorry, Eddie," said Stan.

Eddie shrugged. "It's fine, I don't remember him much. But since then, Mum simply gave up on magic. She doesn't do it at all - her wand's locked away in our attic with all of Dad's things. I would've basically grown up as a Muggle if I didn't have Bill with me." 

Eddie threw him a smile, which Bill answered in kind. They'd had their share of fun during their childhood, playing Gobstones and chasing after gnomes in Bill’s backyard. Mrs. K couldn't have completely sheltered Eddie from magic much as she tried, seeing as they still lived in an all-wizarding village.

"I know how you feel, Eds," said Richie. "I'm half-and-half, and though Dad's fine doing magic around the house, I sometimes think my mum wishes I'd been born a Muggle like her."

The compartment was quiet for a beat as none of them knew how to answer. Luckily, Richie himself broke the silence.

"Er... What about you, Stan the Man? You're an Uris, huh? Your family’s about a million years old, right? Didn’t your great-great-great grandfather study with Merlin?"

Bill himself was also from a family that could be called “Pureblooded”, though his parents never made any effort to bank on that status. In any case, having a son be interned at St. Mungos was probably motive enough to take his family’s name out of the circles of high magical society. 

Stan appeared to lose a bit of his unfaltering composure as their attention turned to him. 

"Yes, I suppose my family's quite old…” He looked out the window, his gaze further away than the green fields they were moving through. “We have all of these traditions we're supposed to follow, but I don't really see the point of. I mean, who'd want to avoid drinking Butterbeer just because there's moondew in it?" He laughed then, at a joke no one else caught. 

* * *

 

Later that week, Bill and Richie were walking together towards Greenhouse One for Herbology class as they discussed just how to go about with finally beginning their duelling sessions.

"How much do you know about it?" asked Richie, jumping over a loose pumpkin as they crossed the vegetable patch.

"I just nuh-know that we count steps, b-bow to each o-other, then..." Bill didn't finish his sentence, unwilling to admit that, after the initial formalities, the whole concept of duelling was still abstract to him.

"Right. We best go to the Library and do some research, then?"

They met there on Saturday morning after breakfast. Walking through the mostly deserted corridors of the immense Library, Richie still yawning away remnants of sleep, Bill found his eyes lingering over at the Restricted Section. Certainly, the books there would be of much more use to him than the ones he had already taken from shelves. _Duelling In Seven Easy Steps_ , _A Practical Wizard's Guide to Duelling_ and _From Wart to Warlock: Perfecting Your Duelling Skills_ sat heavy on his arms. He knew, however, that without Professor Gallagher's help he wouldn't be able to reach those private books any time soon. He sighed and entered another corridor to look for more books, Richie right on his trail, and saw Eddie sitting at one of the tables near a window, Stan Uris beside him.

Bill walked to the end of the corridor and dropped his books in front of Eddie, catching both his and Stan's attention.

"Hey g-g-guys, doing h-homework?" he asked.

"Studying for exams, actually. Can't start too soon, according to Stan," said Eddie. He looked like he didn't particularly agreed with Stan's devotion to studies, but was accompanying him anyway. "What's this all about?" he asked, grabbing the first book on Bill's short pile and inspecting it.

"Wotcher, Eds! Bill and I are gonna start duelling!" Richie announced, not caring to lower his voice. The librarian instantly hushed him, so he continued more sedately, "Hey, you should join us!"

Eddie was staring at Bill with a sad look on his face. It made him feel a bit guilty to not have asked Eddie to join them, but he knew Eddie wasn't invested in his plan of learning about Dark Arts, and wasn’t too keen on being lectured about it for the hundredth time.

"How exactly are you going to duel with first-year knowledge?" Stan piped in, looking like he had as much faith in them as he did a dung beetle.

"We've got these books to help us, don't we?" said Richie, adding two more books onto Bill's pile. Bill could see the top one was titled _The Five Hundred Funniest Jinxes and Hexes_ , and groaned internally.

"Right..." said Stan as he too glanced at the book Richie had chosen. He slowly raised his stare back at them. "And after you've read them, how do you suppose you'll practise? You do know that duelling is forbidden at Hogwarts, right?"

Bill and Richie exchanged a glance, and Bill could see that Richie knew as much about that rule as he did, which was to say not at all.

Richie tried to save face, but not even he could think of a response to redeem them this time. "We'll... Er..." 

"Will you just give it up, Bill?" Eddie blurted. His eyes held a sort of despair Bill almost couldn't handle. "Can't we just make it through the year without getting a detention, or worse, because you won't get this stupid idea out of your head?"

Eddie's undermining hurt Bill, and he lashed out.

"I don't know if you nuh-noticed, Eh-Eddie, but I didn't inv-vite you to th-this. If I get eh-expelled, I'll be sh-sure to send you a "C-congratul-lations" owl."

A silence permeated their group, awkwardly from Richie and Stan's side, seething from Bill and Eddie's. Then Bill grabbed both his and Richie's books and went to sit somewhere far away.

* * *

 

That same night, Bill had dinner not tasting anything as guilt numbed his mouth. Afterwards, he trudged his way to Gryffindor tower alone, and in the dim light almost didn't notice a small lump on the floor beside the portrait of the Fat Lady until it moved.

"Hey, Bill," said the lump. It was Eddie, looking somewhat dejected, yet determined. 

"If you're g-going to tell me o-off again, luh-leave it."

"I came to say I'm sorry," said Eddie, standing up with a wince. Bill hadn't seen him at supper, so he might have been waiting for him for a while. "And that I want to help you."

"Uh-All right..." said Bill, still slightly distrusting.

"But you have to promise me." Ah, there it was, thought Bill resignedly. "If by the end of term you haven't found what you're looking for, you're going to drop this once and for all." 

Bill considered the proposal for a minute. On the one hand, he wasn't willing to give up so easy on helping his brother. On the other, having Eddie with him would speed things along, and maybe by the time term was over he would have convinced his friend of the importance of their task.

"D-Deal," said Bill at last. They shook on it.

"We start on Monday, right after class. Bring your books." Then Eddie left for his own dormitory, and Bill entered through the portrait hole feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. There was not much he liked less than arguing with Eddie. 

On Monday, like promised, Bill and Eddie started their duelling studying sessions. Bill brought Richie along, and Eddie, surprisingly, brought Stan.

"I still think you lot are way in over your heads," said Stan. Then, suddenly, he smiled brightly, and dropped a heavy tome on the table they were sat at. "Let's begin, shall we?" 

They squeezed in time at the Library every day between the last class of the day and dinner (on Fridays, since they had the entire afternoon free, they sometimes played a game of wizard's chess beforehand). As term drew closer and closer to the end, they had to spend less time reading the books on duelling and more time preparing for their final exams, but still they did it the four of them together. Bill was more than glad of their company, but with every completed chapter in one of the duelling books, he grew increasingly disheartened. So far, they had learned how to position their non-wand arm so it wouldn’t get in the way, and that they had to always enunciate their spells perfectly if they didn't want a Body-Bind Curse to turn into a Bat-Bogey Hex, but not much else. Begrudgingly, Bill was starting to agree with Professor Gallagher: they simply weren't equipped to deal with more advanced magic yet.

Their frequent study sessions were useful for one thing, at least - the four of them passed their exams with flying colours. They kept the sessions going during the last week before summer break, but by the last day, Bill was ready to admit defeat, as were the others. 

"We gave it our best shot, Bill," said Eddie as they all sat on the courtyard waiting for the Closing Feast. They had skipped breakfast to endure one final sprint at the Library, though it hadn't amounted to much. Being good on his word, Eddie hadn't complained once about the possible futility of their endeavour, but Bill knew he was relieved to have it over and done with.

"Just wasn't meant to be, Big Bill," added Richie from his position lying on the ground, his yellow and black uniform tie covering his eyes as he soaked in the early summer sun. 

"Maybe next year we can pick a more reasonable topic for studying, like taming dragons," said Stan, to which they all laughed.

After a while, they went back inside the castle to enjoy the last feast of the school year. On their way to the Great Hall, Bill saw groups of students huddled together, muttering to each other, concern on their faces. He thought they might have been discussing the results of the House Cup Championship, as they had been announced earlier that day. The corridors were already decorated in blue and bronze to commemorate the year's winner, Ravenclaw. They passed by a boy Bill knew was in their year, though couldn't recall his name. He was dressed in Ravenclaw robes, but didn't seem to be celebrating, a frown on his face and _The Daily Prophet_ on his hands.

"Give that here, Hanscom!" shouted someone Bill unfortunately did recognise. Henry Bowers was also a Gryffindor, though thankfully one year above Bill. Whenever he and his two trusted underlings, Victor Criss and Reg "Belch" Huggins, entered the Gryffindor common room, Bill made sure to scatter.

The Ravenclaw boy, Hanscom, dropped the newspaper on the floor and bolted, to the amusement of Bowers and his friends.

"Wish it could've been fat-boy instead," said Bowers, looking at the neglected newspaper. The three older boys walked away, their malicious laughter echoing on the stone walls.

Bill was ready to move on as well, but Eddie had dropped down to get the newspaper. When he straightened back up, his face was ashen.

"Wuh-what is it, Eh-Eddie?"

Eddie mutely handed him the paper. Richie and Stan scooted over to read over each of his shoulders, so he could feel when their breaths hitched.

“ _Ten-year-old boy found catatonic in his home’s backyard_ ”, said the headline.

There'd been another attack.


	2. Year 2: Ben

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So no, Ben's life at Hogwarts wasn't perfect. There were frustrated study sessions, and quiet pining, and the constant threat of the Bowers gang. But he wasn't alone anymore, he had six people to care for, six _friends_ , and that made all the difference.

Ben Hanscom was a boy with a truly uneventful life. His days were spent playing with his Lego blocks and watching television with his mother. Every other Saturday the two of them ordered pizza and watched whatever movie he chose (he tended to pick the ones with the most romantic plots). He had no friends, but that didn't bother him - he was content in his sedate domesticity.

So naturally it had been quite a shock when, in the summer he was eleven years-old, an owl brought him a letter telling him he was a wizard.

Ben had no knowledge of any other sorcerers in his family, though his father had died when he was only a toddler, so for all Ben knew he could very well have been a wizard in disguise. The fact remained that Ben had up until that point lived a rather simple, non-magical life. Nonetheless, there might have been something within him, something he wasn't even consciously aware of himself, that longed for something greater. When the Hogwarts letter arrived, he didn't think twice before accepting the invitation.

When he actually got to the school, however, he found not much had actually changed in his routine. Instead of merely stacking his Lego bricks, he entertained himself by making the blocks levitate and arranging them together in mid-air. His only friend was an owl his mother had gifted him shortly before his departure, and which he had called Archimedes - Archie, for short - after a wizard's owl he had seen in a movie. He was a wizard now, but his life remained relatively uneventful.

Except for his encounters with Henry Bowers.

Bowers was one year above Ben at Hogwarts, and not even from his House (Bowers was a Gryffindor, Ben a Ravenclaw), but the boy seemed to have a personal vendetta against him. Ben suspected it was because he himself was, as he had learned the term, a Muggleborn. He quickly learned that blood status mattered in the wizarding world, and that his non-magical background made certain people dislike him on sight. Bowers and his friends seemed to fall within that category of people, though they didn't restrict themselves to calling him Mudblood, an awful expletive for a Muggleborn. They also attacked him based on his weight, his friendlessness, and at times even his House, even though Ravenclaw was a generally well-respected Hogwarts House.

Despite all that, Ben's first year at Hogwarts went by rather peacefully, with few altercations with the Bowers gang (though he had become quite good at defensive spells in the meantime). As his second year commenced, he hoped he would be able to escape unscathed once more.

That hope was squashed before the first month of term had even ended.  


 

* * *

 

Right at the end of the previous school year, the local wizarding community was shocked by another case of a child attack, around a year after the first one had taken placed in the magical village of Derry. The recent attack had a new location (Glasgow, this time), though the other details concerning the case remained the same: a child, left unsupervised, was later found in a state closer to death than life. They weren't Petrified, for they could still move if prompted, but their unblinking eyes held no semblance of recognition of the outside world. Once more, there was no concrete proof of what had happened, though  _ The Daily Prophet _ reported it as the work of a rogue Dementor. Azkaban officials continued to deny any of their guards were missing, however. But what really shocked people wasn't just the Glasgow incident - it was the fact that, merely weeks after it, two more children were found in the same condition, this time in Edinburgh. Whatever it was, it was getting closer to Hogwarts.

Some parents expressed their concern over this fact during the summer holidays, but Headmaster Keene was adamant in saying that the school was as safe a place as could be, and so all students were welcomed back into the castle for another year. For the most part, things carried on like usual, but Bowers and his friends became obsessed with the attacks. They roamed the hallways scaring other students, wondering aloud who could be the next victim, pure glee in their voices. 

Their favourite target was usually Ben. As long as they merely shouted things like "Don't get too comfy in your bed tonight, Hanscom, the Dementor's coming for you!", Ben was able to ignore them. When they drew their wands at him, however, he had no chance to fight back seeing as it was three against one. He had no choice but to run.

One bright Sunday in October found Ben doing precisely that. 

He had just left the Great Hall after lunch, full of two courses of lasagna and three of delicious treacle tart, when he caught a glimpse of Victor Criss's light-blond hair from the other end of the corridor. Bowers and Huggins were right behind him, and smiled twin malicious smiles as they saw him. Ben was prepared to duck his head and deal quietly with whatever insult they had planned for him this time, but a sudden rustle of robes warned him that it was not all the gang had in mind. He had but an instant to draw his own wand and cast a quick protection spell before a red beam of light was sent his way.

"Don't want to play with us, Porker? C'mon, let us give you a snout to match that belly of yours!" Bowers shouted from across the corridor, making Criss and Huggins laugh maniacally. The three began strutting towards Ben lazily, as if they knew he couldn't escape.

Ben had to think on his toes. He realised he was in the Entrance Hall, mere metres away from the huge oak door that led outside, wide open so that students could come in and out of the grounds freely. He calculated that he was a bit closer to the door than Bowers and his goons; with a head start, and quite a bit of luck, he might manage to get outside before them. Not stopping to consider other options, Ben dived straight for it, racing for the door as fast as he could.

He didn't dare look back to see if they followed him, but as he crossed the threshold into the school grounds, he heard them cursing loudly. By that and their shuffling noises, Ben knew they were close behind. His wand was still raised in self-defence, his  _ Protego _ shield surrounding him and keeping him safe from the jets of spells still being thrown at him left and right. He knew, however, that it was only a temporary solution, and that if he wanted to keep his nose as humanlike as it now was, he would have to find a way to hide. The problem was, he was in the middle of the school grounds, with nothing but open fields and the occasional tree all around. There was no place for him to go.

Squinting his eyes both from exertion and the glaring sun, Ben caught a sparkle at the edge of his vision. Maybe there could be a place after all... But first, he would need a diversion.

Luckily, he had the means to produce one. With his right hand still gripping his wand, he reached his left into the pocket of his robes, and it came out holding a small, round object. Turning his head over his shoulder for better aim, never once slowing his desperate dash, Ben threw a Dungbomb at Bowers and his friends.

The stink bomb didn't actually hit any of them, instead falling dully to the ground and rolling a bit on the grass before coming to a stop close to Huggings's feet. The effect Ben had been looking for was achieved, nonetheless, as the three boys skidded to a halt and started coughing convulsively. Criss threw his robe onto his face to protect his nostrils, and Huggings fell forward, grasping his knees as he retched. Bowers covered his nose with the crook of his elbow and, in a fit of rage, pointed his wand at the Dungbomb and cast a spell at it. The spell made the bomb explode into hundreds of tiny, incredibly stinky pieces. Ben heard Criss and Huggings let out surprised and disgusted yells, but didn't stop to see the looks on their faces as they were undoubtedly pelted with dung shrapnel. He had his distraction, and now he had to put the second part of his plan into action as quickly as possible. 

Using the last of his energy, Ben sprinted and jumped right into the Great Lake.

He took his plunge by a spot where two boys were sat, talking excitedly to one another. He hoped their presence would be able to justify the rippling the Lake did where he dived. As the cold water enveloped him completely, he also hoped with all his might that, even if Bowers and the others had noticed him going under, they would not bother those two boys about it.

A few seconds later, whilst Ben was still holding himself underwater, shivering from cold and fright, he heard voices coming from the surface. They were muffled from the water so he could only catch a few words here and there, such as "doing here" and "pathetic". One person seemed to be stuttering quite badly. Ben shut his eyes tight and prayed to Merlin that he hadn't given Bowers two new targets.

After what seemed like an eternity, Ben was about to give up his hiding spot, cursing the fact he didn't know any spell to help him breathe underwater, when he noticed it had gone quiet up above. The only sounds he now heard were of his own blood pumping in his ears, and a light noise from beneath him, as if something was moving in the water. He waited for one more second to make sure Bowers and his friends had indeed gone away, then broke the surface, gasping loudly for air. 

As soon as he did, something curled around his ankle and pulled him down again.

Ben struggled underwater, shaking his legs wildly to try to dislocate whatever it was that held onto him. For a brief moment he managed to get his head above surface again, and had only the time to breathlessly shout "Help!" before he went under once more. There were a few more tense seconds of a tussle between Ben and the thing that held him - was it a creature? - until he suddenly felt a hand grasping his arm and pulling him back up.

What began then was a sort of tug-of-war, with Ben as the useless rope being wrestled in two opposite directions. He had broken the surface of the Lake again, and amid his desperation Ben noticed that it was the same two boys from before who were trying to save him.

"H-h-help me out, Eh-Eddie, I can't p-pull him alone!" one of the boys shouted. His trainer-clad feet had started to skid on the grass, and he was just about to fall into the Lake himself when the other boy held onto him by the waist and pulled him back, grimacing from the effort. Together, the two gave one last strong pull, and then Ben was flying upwards, landing on the ground with a heavy thud. The other boys, impelled by their own momentum, tumbled backwards and lost their balance, falling down on each other.

The three of them lied on the grass by the edge of the Lake, panting. Then the water suddenly rippled and they screamed in unison, scurrying away until they were a safe distance from the Lake's dangerous contents. As they settled back down on the grass, the two boys who had helped Ben looked at each other and started laughing unrestrainedly. Ben, still high on adrenaline, laughed along, the weight of terror finally lifting off his chest as he did.

"What on Earth were you thinking, jumping into the Lake like that?" asked the boy that had been called Eddie earlier. His words were biting, but his eyes sparkled with mirth.

"I had to... Get away from... Bowers," Ben said, still slightly out of breath.

Eddie and the other boy sobered quickly at the mention of Bowers. Ben noticed that the boy who had originally pulled him was wearing Gryffindor robes; he definitely knew the Bowers gang, then.

"Yuh-yeah, they c-c-came up to us, asking if we'd suh-seen you. D-don't worry, we covered your ah-arse," said the Gryffindor. Ben, not used to friendly gestures, only frowned in confusion, his cheeks warm.

"I'm Bill D-Denbrough, and this is Eh-Eh-Eddie Kaspbrak," continued the Gryffindor, Bill. Ben noticed they weren't from the same House: Eddie was clad in Slytherin-green robes.

"I'm Ben, Ben Hanscom. Listen, thank you so much for saving me, both of you."

Bill smiled broadly, and Eddie lowered his gaze to his lap, his own cheeks reddening.

"No p-problem, mate! Any enemy of B-B-Bowers is a friend of muh-mine," said Bill casually, not knowing how important those words were for Ben. It was the first time he had been called someone's friend.

"Say, what was it that attacked you in the Lake, after all?" said Eddie, scooting minimally closer to the shore and directing a curious gaze at the thankfully still waters.

Ben rolled up his trouser leg. His right ankle and shin were covered in suction marks, as those left by the grip of a tentacle. However, the marks were not coin-sized as would be expected from a regular squid, but three, perhaps five times bigger.

Ben raised his gaze from his mauled leg to Bill and Eddie, their eyes wide as saucers.

"Wuh-we've just won a f-fight against the Giant S-Squid!" shouted Bill, appearing both shocked and delighted. With that, both he and Eddie fell back into laughter, grasping at their stomachs from the force of it. Ben smiled, less from the absurdity of the situation, and more from the fact that Bill had said  _ we _ .  


 

* * *

 

The very next day, Ben sat by himself in Transfiguration class, happy with the nice afternoon he had shared with Bill and Eddie but not for a second entertaining the notion of it happening again. So it was quite a surprise when he was met with Bill, standing in front of his desk as students shuffled to exit the room.

Ben hadn't even realised class had ended. He had been far too distracted with his favourite pastime: watching mesmerised how the sun rays caught on Beverly Marsh's vivid red hair. She was a Gryffindor, and the only class Ravenclaw shared with Gryffindor was Transfiguration, so he took the opportunity to sit behind her whenever he could to closely admire the beautiful colour of her hair. Sometimes she would whip it over her shoulder, and Ben would be momentarily assaulted with a sweet, flowery scent that left him mooning for hours later. Ben was glad that Transfiguration was his favourite subject, because it meant that his grades didn't drop even if he spent half of every class daydreaming about Beverly's soft-looking locks.

But now Beverly was standing up with the rest of the students, gathering her material to leave, and Bill Denbrough was in front of him, smiling warmly.

"Uh-all right there, Ben? I'm huh-heading over to the L-lake to meet the luh-lads, d'you wuh-want to come w-with?" 

Ben had no idea who "the lads" were, though he reckoned Eddie was included in that group. Ben had already opened his mouth to agree heartily, when Bill continued, "Oh, hey, B-Beverly, you should c-come too! We're puh-playing Exp-ploding S-S-Snap."

Beverly was passing by Ben's desk on her way out of the classroom, and stopped when she heard Bill call her. She was standing mere centimetres away from Ben now, and he blushed furiously, scrambling to put away his Transfiguration book and writing material so he had a reason to duck his head.

"Oh, it's on," Beverly replied to Bill with a wicked grin. "Richie still has to pay for blowing off one of my eyebrows during the last game."

Ben chanced a quick look at her face and noticed that both of her (also intensely red) eyebrows were intact, so whatever this Richie had done to them wasn't permanent. Beverly caught him looking and turned herself to face him. Ben averted his gaze back down so fast he almost gave himself whiplash.

"Hey, Ben! Are you joining us?"

Ben gaped at her for a second, shocked speechless that  _ Beverly Marsh _ knew his name. Then he realised that both she and Bill were still looking at him expectantly, and stammered "Yes, of course, I'll come!"

He bolted out of his chair as if it was on fire, and Beverly and Bill both snorted with contained amusement. Ben felt his cheeks warm even more, but Bill merely bumped his shoulder with his own lightly.

"D-don't get t-too excited, they're all l-losers," Bill said fondly.

Three boys were hanging about by the lakeshore when they arrived. Eddie was indeed one of them; he was shrieking with laughter and trying to hide behind another Slytherin whilst a Hufflepuff made several attempts to shove his closed fist in his face. Ben could see there was something squirming inside it.

"Bill! Help, Richie's trying to make me eat a flobberworm!" screamed Eddie, breathless from laughter, as Ben and the Gryffindors approached his group. "Stop it, you tosser! Hey, Ben, nice to see you!" he added, still moving back and forth on the grass, using the other Slytherin boy as a disgruntled human shield.

"Nuh-knock it o-off, Richie," said Bill. The Hufflepuff, Richie, stopped at once, throwing the flobberworm to the ground where it proceeded to slowly crawl away, leaving a trail of slime behind if.

"Wotcher, Big Bill?" said Richie, rubbing his palm on his robes to get rid of excess mucus. "Miss Marsh, lovely as always. And who's the new kid?"

"I'm Ben Hanscom, hi." Ben would have extended his hand, but saw that there were still remnants of drying mucus on Richie's palm and thought otherwise.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, good sir," replied Richie using an overtly polite voice. "I'm Richie Tozier, and this over here," he added in a normal tone, pointing his thumb at the other Slytherin, "is Stan-the-man Uris. He's a Pureblood, so don't mess with him or he'll curse your entire family."

Ben glanced warily at Stan, but the Slytherin merely scoffed. 

"Richie's joking, I only curse people I really hate. Nice to meet you, Ben." Stan had a warm smile on his face, so Ben decided he was joking about the cursing bit.

"Speaking of people we really hate, Ben's the one we saw escape from Bowers yesterday," mentioned Eddie, settling on the grass, his palms flat on the ground behind him as he reclined. Ben and the others followed suit.

"The one who almost got eaten by a squid? Brilliant!" said Richie, pushing his thick glasses up his nose as they slid down in his excitement. "D'you still have the marks?"

Ben rolled his pant leg and showed them the purple suction bruises he had all over his leg, some of them already beginning to fade to a sickly yellow. Bev and Stan grimaced; Richie "ooh"ed appreciatively.

"The things we do to escape Bowers and his crazy cronies... Welcome to the club, mate," Richie said, lying back on the grass, hands behind his head. He closed his eyes against the glare of the sun, so he didn't catch the way Ben flushed with delight at his words.

"Why do we always have to meet outside? It's too hot here, not to mention uncomfortable," Beverly complained, squirming in her place. She reached under herself and pulled a loose branch from where she was sat.

"What do you expect, Bev? If Eddie and I were to sneak you into our common room, they'd find a way to throw you out the window at the Lake, and you can bet your last Sickle that the Giant Squid would be the least of your worries." Stan looked apologetic, but also dead serious in his remark.

Ben hardly spared a thought as to what he was doing. Before he knew it, he pulled an empty sweet wrapper from one pocket, and his wand from another.

"Here, Beverly," he said absently. He then proceeded to Transfigure the wrapper into a sturdy stack of hay, roughly the size of ottoman.

Ben placed the haystack on the ground, and looked up from his handiwork to find the other five staring at him open-mouthed. 

Ben coughed awkwardly and put his hands neatly on his lap. "Sorry, I, uh, I don't really know how to Transfigure any furniture yet."

"Are you kidding? This is incredible! Do me, do me!" Richie had sprung up from his lying position and now was scavenging through his bag. He apparently found what he was looking for, and handed it to Ben eagerly: it was a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

Ben dropped the few remaining beans onto Richie's open palms, then pointed his wand at the empty box and did the same thing he had done for Beverly. Richie immediately jumped onto his new stack of hay, an expression of pure bliss on his face.

"Top of the class, Benny my boy! Stan, I forbid you to curse Ben's family."

Stan responded by tackling Richie and stealing half of his Bertie Bott's beans. He popped one into his mouth, humming appreciatively. Ben had known Stan for all of ten minutes, but he guessed that he would have acted pleased even if he had got a boogie-flavoured bean, purely out of spite.

"How was your Transfiguration class, by the way?" Eddie asked as soon as the novelty of Ben's spell faded.

"Eh, it was all right. How was Defence?" Beverly replied, leaning forward on her makeshift seat. 

Stan and Eddie groaned whilst Richie barked out a wet laugh, his mouth full of beans. Ben looked between them and Beverly, who had two spots of red high on her cheeks.

"Bloody hell, Bev, you sound just like Bill last year," said Richie, thankfully after he'd swallowed. "I don't know who's worse, him with Professor Gallagher, or you with Professor McCall."

Professor Kay McCall had been brought in to replace Professor Gallagher as the teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts this year. No one knew exactly what had happened, but shortly before the Closing Feast the previous year, Professor Gallagher left the school in a hurry. As the new year began, he still hadn't returned. Headmaster Keene had mentioned "problems of a personal order", and welcomed Professor McCall as his substitute. She was a short woman, with short brown hair and a short fuse. Ben thought she was a rather good teacher, though he wasn't as keen as Beverly appeared to be.

"The woman's a living legend!" exclaimed Bev defensively. "She's worked with the Auror office for years, helping women who'd been put under curses and love potions by their husbands. I mean, gee, she's even written a book about it!"

"Yes, yes,  _ Spells and Counter-Curses Every Sensible Witch Should Know _ , you've only told us a million times, Bev," groaned Richie. Bev huffed but said nothing in reply.

"Well, at least you don't like her for ulterior motives," Stan told her, glancing sideways at Bill.

"What do you mean, ulterior motives?" asked Ben.

There was a tense silence, and Ben was about to apologise, even though he didn't know what for, when Bill spoke up.

"Luh-last year, I... Let's j-just say I wanted to ge-het in Professor G-Gallagher's good guh-graces."

"And why's that?" Ben prodded.

So Bill proceeded to tell him all about his previous year's efforts, from trying (and failing) to charm Professor Gallagher into giving him private tutoring lessons, to taking it up by himself in the form of duelling sessions with the help of Stan, Eddie, and Richie. He also told him the reason why he had gone to such lengths in the first place: to find out exactly what had happened to his brother, George.

"Have you tried asking Professor McCall, then?"

A new round of laughter burst in their circle, as Bill huffed in annoyance.

"Yuh-yeah, but sh-she was even w-worse than G-Gallagher," Bill mumbled.

"She told him, and I quote: 'I've been warned about you, Mr. Denbrough, and if you think you can buy me with cheap compliments, you've got another thing coming!' I nearly cried." Eddie had both of his hands crossed over his chest, eyes closed, an expression of bliss on his face.

"I still wish I'd have been there to see it," added Richie, wiping a non-existent tear from the corner of his eye.

"That's when Bill and I started talking, actually. I told him I'd be glad to help in any way I could. So you didn't get Professor McCall, but you got me! Pretty good deal, huh?" Bev smiled openly at Bill, and Ben could see it in her eyes that she truly liked him. Ben looked away, a pressure in his chest he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with.

"Does that mean you've given up, then?" Ben carried on with the previous topic of conversation. He had to admit he was a tad disappointed. He would have loved to study with all of them, learn something and possibly help those attacked kids.

"I don't nuh-know what eh-else to do, r-really. We've b-been to the Luh-library a m-m-million times ah-already, there's just n-nothing there," said Bill.

But the mention of the school library made an idea spark in Ben's head. Before he knew his mouth had opened, he was speaking again.

"You know, I share a dorm with a bloke who might be able to help you. He's always at the Library himself; if something in there could answer your questions, he would know."

Bill threw him a hopeful smile. "R-r-really? Bring him ih-in to our next s-session, then! Wuh-hat's his nuh-name?"

And that was how Ben Hanscom and Mike Hanlon joined Bill Denbrough's study group, which Richie had proclaimed to be henceforth called "The Loser's Club".

 

* * *

 

Having a sudden surge of friends didn't mean Ben's life at Hogwarts had become perfect overnight. Of course, it had improved significantly: instead of going by his days methodically shifting from his dorm to the Great Hall for meals and among his classrooms then back to his dorm, Ben now spent most of his free time either by the Lake or at the Library, always accompanied by the rest of the Losers, as they had begun to call each other affectionately. Mike had readily accepted Ben's invitation. They hadn't talked much before, mostly sticking to friendly greetings whenever they found themselves in their dorm room at the same time, but Ben knew Mike was an intelligent, hard-working boy who could be a real asset to their endeavour.

Almost a month had gone by, and even with Mike's precious knowledge of the nooks and crannies  of the school library they still hadn't found any new information that could enlighten them about George's condition. Ben was somewhat disheartened, but deep down also slightly glad. He felt guilty about it, but he secretly thought that the more time they took searching for answers, the more time he would have to spend with all of them, especially Beverly.

Ben now knew Bev was not only beautiful, but also quick-witted, kind, and rather good at Exploding Snap. But, most of all, he quickly realised that she was unavailable. As he spent quite a bit of time pretending not to stare at her, he saw how she pretended not to stare at Bill. He couldn't bring himself to be jealous, though. Bill and Bev were both his friends, and in this novel concept of friendship Ben learned there was nothing more satisfying than seeing your friends be happy.

Once, a few days after their first official meeting as The Loser's Club, Ben had been walking near the courtyard between classes when he heard repeated sniffing noises, as if someone was crying. He glanced curiously at the courtyard on his right and saw a flash of red: Beverly was sat on a bench across the patio, shoulders slumped and head in her hands. Ben was about to approach her when he noticed someone sitting beside her, speaking softly. Instead of going to them, not wanting to interrupt their conversation but also incredibly curious, he hid behind a pillar to hear what they were saying.

"I just don't understand - why won't he write to me?" Beverly said, her speech interrupted at nearly every other word by her sniffling. "I know he's a muggle, but I taught him how to use an owl!"

Ben initially thought she was talking about Bill, but his assumption was quickly dismissed as Bev confessed she was worried about a muggle. Could she have left a boyfriend back home, one who couldn't come study with her at Hogwarts for he didn't possess magic?

"There, there, my child," said Professor McCall, for it was she who was sitting by Beverly's side. The professor reached over and patted Bev's shoulder comfortingly. "I know you love your father very much, but oftentimes men can't be trusted with the simplest of tasks."

So it was Bev's father who was the cause of her upset. Ben felt better for a second, relieved there wasn't a mysterious boy for him to be jealous of. Then he realised what he was doing and promptly felt bad again.

"I know, it's just that he always worried so much about me, and now, since I discovered I was a witch, it seems like I'm not even his daughter anymore!" Bev continued. So she was a Muggleborn like him, thought Ben. The information made him smile despite himself.

Beverly raised her head and started wiping the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I  think he doesn't love me anymore... I think no one does." She had said the last part almost at a whisper, though Ben caught the words anyway. They pierced straight through his heart, and he himself felt on the verge of crying.

He turned around just as Professor McCall leaned in to give Bev a hug, and all but ran to the Owlery.

Reaching the top of the stairs in the West Tower, Ben stopped in front of the small, circular room where all the students' and staff owls slept. He looked around for his eagle owl, panting and holding his hand over his nose and mouth to minimise the strong smell of bird droppings. Fortunately Archimedes wasn't out hunting for mice; Ben spotted it to his right, one wing swept over its face as it slept.

Ben reached into his rucksack and pulled out a meticulously rolled parchment, unrolling it carefully. The parchment was not empty, though only three short lines of writing covered it.   
  


_ Your hair is winter fire _

_ January embers _

_ My heart burns there, too. _

  
The poem wasn't signed - he didn't want Beverly to know he had written it. He had written it for her before they'd even become friends, back when his days were still spent alone with not much to entertain himself with. He'd spent a whole evening on it, sitting on his common room's settee and thinking about a girl he thought didn't know him at all. After he'd finished, the poem had been thrust into the bottom of his rucksack, where it remained since then. He had been too scared to send the note, thinking Beverly would somehow find out it had come from him and tease him about it.

Now, those fears vanished quick as fog dissipating to give way to sunlight. Beverly felt alone, felt unloved, and he had to remind her that she had someone who cared about her, even though he still preferred to remain anonymous. He knew Bev wouldn't want that sort of attention from him specifically, but without it signed, she could imagine the poet behind it as someone handsome and charming. She could think it was Bill's idea if she wanted. All that mattered was that it made her feel appreciated.

The entrance to the Owlery was completely empty except for him, but Ben still looked both ways before tapping his wand to the unrolled parchment once. The paper suddenly started emanating a faint lavender smell. Ben rolled the parchment back up and called for his owl.

"Hullo Archie... Wake up for a bit, would you?"

Archie removed the wing from its face, hooting softly as it recognised its owner.

"I need you to take this letter to Beverly Marsh. She lives at Gryffindor Tower. But do not let her see it was you who delivered it, all right?" Ben rushed to add. It would be useless to leave the poem unsigned if Beverly saw it being delivered by Ben's owl. He gave the letter to Archie, who held it in its beak (Ben couldn't tie it to Archie's leg, or someone would have to untie it later). He brushed Archie's beak lightly with the back of a finger. "That's a good boy."

Archie hooted pleasantly, nudged its head to Ben's hand once, then lifted off, flying out of one of the Owlery's many open windows.

So no, Ben's life at Hogwarts wasn't perfect. There were frustrated study sessions, and quiet pining, and the constant threat of the Bowers gang. But he wasn't alone anymore, he had six people to care for, six  _ friends _ , and that made all the difference.

 

* * *

 

The day of Hallowe'en, the Losers managed to spend two hours aimlessly roaming the Library corridors looking for a new book to explore, all to no avail. As the time for the evening feast approached, they disbanded to their respective dormitories to get ready. Mike stayed back, claiming to want a few more valuable minutes of research, which left Ben travelling back towards Ravenclaw Tower on his own.

Whilst on the fourth floor, he turned a corner and almost bumped straight into Patrick Hocksetter.

Hocksetter was a fourth-year Slytherin who mostly went about Hogwarts on his own, though he was on occasion seen with Bowers and his goons. He was alone now, but that hardly mattered. Hocksetter was more dangerous than the whole of the Bowers gang put together. He loved nothing more than terrorising other students, the curses he threw at them more potentially lethal than the emotionally taxing, but somewhat tame, spells that the Bowers gang usually went with. Once, back in Ben's first year, he saw Hocksetter set the robes of a bystander Hufflepuff on fire. The monumental detention he got for it didn't deter him, and he was often still seen around the castle with his wand raised, green flames protruding from it.

Hocksetter had thankfully been looking down, gazing at his wand as he twirled it between his fingers, which meant that he hadn't seen Ben. Mentally thanking all generations of Rowena Ravenclaw, Ben went back to the corridor he had just exited, scanning it quickly for potential hiding places. Spotting an open door shortly ahead, he dashed to it on his tiptoes, trying to make the least amount of noise. He entered the room, which had turned out to be an empty classroom, and left the door ajar so he could see if Hocksetter had noticed him.

But the Slytherin merely continued on ahead, whistling out of tune and still twirling his wand, which now had green flames dancing dangerously close to his flesh. Ben sat down heavily in one of the nearby desk chairs and heaved a sigh of relief. Then a sudden chill overcame him, as though he had passed straight through a ghost. He shivered, spine straightening, and made his way back to the door. He peered out, still trembling; had Hocksetter put some sort of Freezing Jinx in the hallway?

What he saw instead was enough to make him shiver despite the drop in temperature. A gigantic turtle, roughly the size of a horse, was slowly making its way through the corridor, going in the same direction as Patrick. Ben would have wondered if someone had left an incredibly weird pet loose around the school, but for two very important characteristics of this turtle. First, it was hovering a foot above ground, and secondly, there appeared to be a dazzling light coming from inside of it somehow, leaking out of its shell and bathing the corridor in white. Whatever it was, this turtle was undoubtedly a product of magic.

As the turtle passed in front of his door, Ben made eye contact with it. Instantly, he knew it wasn't the animal which had conjured the chilly atmosphere. If anything, the light coming from it was warming him back up. Then, as soon as it had appeared, the turtle left, still following Patrick Hocksetter's path. 

Ben considered going after them. For one, he desperately wanted to know more about the turtle. How had it come about? Was it an incantation, or an enchanted living creature? Other than that, he thought he should warn Patrick about it. What if it intended to harm him? But its light had been so pleasant... Almost inviting, somehow...

Ben decided not to risk going after it. If it had disappeared in the meantime, he would once again be face to face with Hocksetter, and he wasn't sure he was lucky enough to escape him twice. Giving one last look to the hallway (blissfully empty, and back to its regular temperature), Ben left the classroom towards the Great Hall, excited to tell his friends all about his new finding.  


 

* * *

 

The first one he told was Mike. His fellow Ravenclaw reached their dining table some ten minutes after the start of feast, tired expression on his face.

"I'm so hungry I could eat a Thestral," Mike said, serving himself with a healthy portion of roasted turkey and drowning it in gravy. "What's up with you?" he added, seeing how Ben was nearly jumping out of his seat.

Ben told him about the turtle and Mike, fork frozen halfway to his mouth, stared at him throughout the tale. A few drops of gravy fell on Mike's lap, and he wiped at them absently, hunger apparently forgotten in the face of a mystery to be solved.

"What d'you reckon this means?" asked Ben after he'd finished telling his story.

"I'm not sure," Mike replied, eating his forkful at last. He chewed slowly for a few seconds, then continued, "I've never heard of a creature like the one you described. We've got to go back to the Library first thing tomorrow and look for it."

"Do you think it could be related to..." Ben paused, glancing at Bill's auburn mop of hair over at the Gryffindor table. "You know, everything that's been happening?"

Before Mike could answer, Professor McCall entered the Great Hall in and headed straight for the staff table at a fast pace. She whispered something in Headmaster Keene's ear, who nodded solemnly and continued eating. Professor McCall, appearing distressed at the Headmaster's response to whatever she had told him, huffed and went back out the way she'd come.

"What was that all about?" asked Mike, who had also been watching the quiet altercation. Ben only shrugged in reply.

When the feast ended, Ben and Mike waited by the Entrance Hall to talk to their friends. One by one they left the Great Hall, extricating themselves from the groups led by their House prefects to meet at the bottom of the Entrance's staircase. Richie was the last one to arrive, panting as though he'd ran all the way from the Hufflepuff table to them. His eyes, normally enlarged by his thick glasses, looked even bigger.

"Have you heard?" he told them as soon as he'd reached their small circle. "Patrick Hockesetter's been attacked."

Ben covered his mouth with a shaky hand and glanced sideways at Mike. Neither said anything, but Mike's alarmed expression showed him they were thinking the same thing: it had to have been the turtle's doing.

"That must have been what Professor McCall warned the Headmaster about," said Bev, looking rather pale.

"Who'd be crazy enough to go against Patrick Hocksetter?" asked Eddie, his voice shrill.

"I don't think it was a  _ who _ , Eds... More like a  _ what _ ," said Richie. Ben gulped loudly. "He's been taken to the Hospital Wing. They say..." Richie paused, adjusting his glasses and looking straight at Bill. "They say he's awake, but unresponsive. You understand, don't you, Big Bill? Whatever's been attacking those kids all over the country... It's come to Hogwarts."

Bev let out a tiny yelp and reached out to grasp the nearest person to her (which happened to be Stan). Her short nails were digging into Stan's skin, but he didn't brush her off. Instead, he turned to Richie with the most serious expression Ben had ever seen on his face.

"Are you sure, Richie?" he asked. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"I'm just reporting what I've been told! What do we do now, Bill?"

Bill was stood completely still. His face was sharp and his eyes sparkled with some dangerous emotion that made Ben avoid his gaze uneasily.

"W-wuh-we h-have to g-go ah-after it!" said Bill at last, his stutter worse than usual as he shook with unbridled anger. "Ih-it muh-might s-s-still be here suh-somew-where! LET'S GO!" he shouted, when none of the others made any move.

Bill was about to stride off on his own when Ben stopped him.

"Bill, wait!" he shouted. "I know what did it!"

Once again Bev gasped loudly. She removed her bruising grip on Stan's arm to clasp her hand on her chest.

"What do you mean, Ben?" she asked. 

Bill had turned back to their group and was staring down at Ben desperately.

"Wuh-wuh-what was ih-it?"

"I'm not sure what kind of creature it was... I was on the fourth floor, hiding so Hocksetter wouldn't see me, when I saw this huge turtle coming down the corridor. But it wasn't a regular turtle. It was magic, I could feel it."

"A tuh-tuh-turtle?" Confusion briefly clouded over the intensity in Bill's eyes, though he had not lost his frantic energy. "W-we can fight a tuh-turtle! C'mon!"

He started walking down the corridor again, and once again he was stopped by someone calling for him.

"Bill, wait." It was Mike this time. He currently was the calmest one in their group, either because he had heard about the turtle before, or because it was just in his nature. "Curfew is in a few minutes, what if we get caught? Besides, Ben said it was magic. It might have some ability we don't know about, and that would catch us off-guard. We should go back to the Library-"

"BUGGER THE LIBRARY!" Bill shouted, stutter momentarily forgotten in his rage. "THAT TH-THING TOOK MUH-MY B-BROTHER!"

"And it will take us too if we don't know how to stop it!" Stan shouted back, not as loudly but every bit as distressed.

The seven of them stood quietly for a moment, some fuming, others nervously waiting for further instructions. Finally, Bill spoke again.

"F-fine, we won't do a-anything tonight," he conceded. Stan and Mike both sighed in relief. "But f-first thing tuh-tomorrow we're b-back at the Luh-library."

"And I'll ask Professor McCall what she knows about magical turtles," added Beverly. "She likes me, she won't bite my head off if it's me doing the questioning."

They all muttered in agreement of their new plan, then started climbing the marble staircase towards their separate dormitories. Ben and Mike walked together until they reached the eagle knocker that would give them passage to their common room.

"I’m tall when I’m young and I’m short when I’m old. What am I?" the knocker asked them.

Both boys hummed, and then Mike smiled.

"A candle," he replied. The knocker granted them entrance to the room, and they made straight for a vacant pair of chairs next to the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw, collapsing on them bone-tired.

"Do you reckon we'll have better luck finding what the creature is now?" Ben asked Mike. The cool shades of blue all around them soothed Ben, and he felt like he could breathe easy for the first time since entering that empty classroom on the fourth floor.

"Maybe," Mike replied, his voice also gentler now that they were in the safety of their common room. "I still don't know what this turtle could be, but I think we might be able to narrow our search now."

They stayed in the common room a while longer discussing the events of the day until they were too tired to keep talking. 

"Let's go upstairs," Mike mumbled, already half-asleep. "We have a long day tomorrow."

 

* * *

 

The long day turned into a long week, which turned into a couple of long months, and before they knew it the winter holidays crept upon them. They achieved no new ground on their turtle-centred research - the only remotely similar creature they found was a turtle with a jewelled-encrusted shell which, while beautiful, was also useless to them. A week after Hallowe'en, Patrick Hocksetter was released from the Hospital Wing and supposedly taken to St. Mungo's for permanent residence. Ben thought of him wasting away in a bed and couldn't help feeling responsible, seeing as he hadn't warned the boy against the imminent attack. 

"You couldn't have done anything, Ben. What if the turtle had gone after you instead?" argued Eddie one day when Ben expressed his worries to the group.

"Yeah, better him than you! Ow, bloody hell, Eds!" said Richie, massaging his ribs which had promptly been elbowed.

Beverly had delivered on her promise and asked Professor McCall about the creature, though she also came up short. According to her, Professor McCall had closed off immediately at the mention of a turtle, and though it was obvious she knew something they didn't, she wasn't willing to share.

So they all returned home for the holidays and came back for a new term with meagre hopes of finding anything at all in the Library that could help them.

"This is just like last year!" Richie exclaimed suddenly during one of their study sessions in early April. He closed the book he was reading and banged his forehead on the desk beside it. Only Stan, Bill, and Ben were in the table with him; with exams getting closer, they started taking turns revising and researching. Eddie, Beverly, and Mike were a few tables over quizzing each other on Herbology.

"I've seen more of this Library than even the librarian himself!" Richie continued, his voice muffled by having his face pressed to the desk. "If I see another book, I'm gonna barf."

The librarian in question, a tiny man made even tinier by his curved back, hushed him.

"That's it, I'm going," said Richie, standing up and shouldering his bag. "Anyone up for a game of Gobstones? Stan?"

Stan glanced from Bill, to Richie, back to Bill. Bill gave him a short nod, so Stan closed his own book and stood up as well. 

"My man!" Richie shouted. The librarian hushed him again.

"Are you staying then, Big Bill? Haystack, you too?" Ben had gained the nickname after his Transfiguration stunt the previous year, and though at first he thought he was being made fun of, he quickly realised nicknames were just Richie's way of showing affection.

"I'm stuh-staying a bit l-longer," said Bill, flipping a page on the book he was reading. Ben decided to stay back with him.

"All right, suit yourselves. Catch you later, losers!" He shouted out the last bit, already running out of the Library and narrowly evading the librarian, who was threatening him with detention.

Less than an hour later, the Herbology study group also wrapped up, passing by their table and wishing them good night before leaving.

The sun started to set outside the window beside Ben's seat, the bright blue sky turning pink-orange. Soon enough, the librarian came to warn them the Library was closing for the day. Ben and Bill gathered their books and returned them, not having found anything of relevance in them to warrant checking them out.

They exited the Library with heavy steps, tired from another day of too much reading and too little progress. Perhaps Richie had had the right idea in taking a break, thought Ben as he rubbed his stiff neck. His stomach grumbled loudly, and he glanced sideways at Bill, embarrassed.

"Let's guh-go st-traight to dinner, I'm f-f-famished," said Bill airily, though Ben knew he had said it in Ben's favour, so he appreciated the gesture all the more for it.

They started descending a flight of stairs that would take them to the ground floor. However, as they were halfway through it, the stairs changed direction, taking them a few floors up instead.

"Oh, b-bloody hell," groaned Bill. 

They got off the stairs as soon as they'd fixed in their new location, arriving at a deserted and, at least to Ben, unfamiliar corridor.

"D'you know where we are?" asked Ben, looking around trying to find a way back down. There were no other stairs anywhere nearby.

"I don't th-think so," replied Bill, his steps echoing loudly as he entered the empty hallway. "Tuh-two years at Hogwarts and I b-bet we haven't seen huh-half of it y-yet."

Ben walked at a slower pace behind him, checking the paintings along the walls to see if any was awake to give them directions. With no such luck, they continued walking further into the floor, turning corner after corner and getting more lost by the minute.

Ben was about to recommend they go back to the staircase and wait for it to come down again, when a sudden chill slid up his spine and clamped his mouth shut. The temperature in the corridor seemed to have dropped ten degrees within a matter of seconds.

Bill turned slowly around to face him, having obviously noticed the change himself. "D-d-do you f-feel this?" he asked. As he exhaled, his breath fogged in front of him for a second.

Ben had already drawn his wand, raising it with a shaky hand.

"I think we might be in trouble, Big Bill."

Then, a sound echoed from further down the poorly-lit corridor, startling them both. There was clearly something at the end of the hall, though Ben couldn't quite make out what it was. Bill rushed to Ben's side and raised his own wand in a defensive posture. 

Ben frowned. He recognised that sound. It was a laugh, and not just any laugh. It belonged to...

"Beverly?" he asked, his voice trembling.

He cast  _ Lumos _ , and from the dimness of the corridor emerged a figure. It was indeed Beverly, though she seemed different somehow. Her features were sharper, her blue eyes icy.

"Merlin, B-Bev, you gave us a fuh-fright," said Bill, putting his wand down and starting to walk towards her. Ben shot out an arm to stop him. He could feel Bill looking at him, probably confused that Ben still hadn't lowered his wand. Ben, however, didn't take his eyes off Beverly.

"What are you doing here alone, Bev?" Ben asked, trying with all his might to appear casual.

Bev laughed again, a grating sound, nothing of her usual warmth in it.

"I was waiting for you, Ben!" she said, edging closer. Ben took a step backward. 

Bev smiled. It was mean, and twisted, and it looked ugly on her face. "Are you afraid of me, Ben?" She turned to Bill. "You're not, too, are you, Bill?"

But Bill had sensed the wrongness of the scene, and raised his wand back up.

"Wh-who are y-you and wh-what have you duh-done to Beh-heverly?"

She laughed once more, her expression nearly inhuman by now. "What am I, Billy? Why, that's a really good question."

And then, in the blink of eye, she wasn't Bev anymore.

The corridor got even colder. Ben could feel the chill in his bones, in his soul. A scream had lodged itself in his throat, but he was too frozen for it to come out. His wand was still raised, but the Lightning Charm had ended and he couldn't think of anything else to cast, anything that would be useful against what was coming for them, for approaching him and Bill was a monstrous  _ thing _ that had been Bev five seconds ago. 

Ben couldn't understand what it was, the cold and terror numbing his mind beyond help. He was taken by such fright that he felt like he would die before the thing reached him and killed him itself. And it wanted to kill him, that Ben knew without a doubt.

He saw two things before his eyes closed. First, he saw that the creature (was it a creature? If not, what could it be?) was emanating a sort of light, a light so blindingly bright and terrifyingly cold that Ben knew it could kill him as soon as it touched him. Then, just before the lights - the unavoidable deadlights - got to him, Ben saw a different type of light, coming to a stop in front of him and Bill.

Then darkness took him, and he fainted.

 

* * *

 

Ben came to slowly, his awareness of his surroundings becoming sharper bit by bit. He knew he was in a bed, and unharmed. Still, he kept his eyes closed, feeling too weak to open them.

The first thing he heard was Bill's voice.

It was coming somewhere to his left. Ben guessed they must be in the Hospital Wing, for he and Bill didn't share a dorm room. Bill was muttering something in an annoyed tone of voice.

"I've tuh-told you, I'm f-f-fine!" said Bill.

"You will leave this bed when  _ I _ have decided you are fine, Mr. Denbrough, and not a minute sooner," replied Madam Pomfrey sternly. Ben recognised her voice easily. He knew her relatively well, seeing as Bowers and his cronies had more than once left Ben needing her services. As a matter of fact, he knew her well enough to know Bill was wasting his breath asking her to be released early.

Ben heard Bill huff, then a rustle of fabric as if Bill was settling back down on his bed. The sound of steps, growing more and more quiet, announced Madam Pomfrey had left the room. After what felt like less than ten minutes later, just as Ben was almost falling back asleep, the doors to the infirmary opened and someone came rushing to their bedside.

"Bill! Oh, my God, are you all right?" Beverly's concerned voice was laboured; she sounded as though she had run quite a bit to get to them - to Bill. Ben opened his eyes to see her.

Beverly had thrown herself onto Bill's torso and was hugging him fiercely. Her long red hair was disheveled, hot tears running down her flushed cheeks. She was beautiful. Ben was suddenly assaulted with an image of another Bev, one with sharp laughter and menacing eyes. Then, whatever had come after... He shivered despite himself.

"Where... Where are the others?" Ben asked, coughing once to clear the sandpapery feeling in his throat. He sat up on the bed gingerly, his limbs like jelly.

Bev dislodged her hold on Bill and turned towards Ben.

"Ben! They're probably at supper. I was in Professor McCall's office when she was warned about the new attack by the Head Girl, so I came straight here. What  _ happened _ ?" She reached forward and grasped his hand as it lied limply on the bed. He gripped hers tight, revelling in the comfort of her touch. 

"We saw it, Bev. Whatever attacked Patrick Hocksetter... Probably the other children too. We saw it."

She gasped loudly. Though her hand was still within Ben's, she turned back to face Bill.

"Was it the turtle, Bill?"

Bill shook his head. "No, B-Bev. The cuh-creature... What-hever It wuh-was..." Bill spat with pure hatred in every word, and Ben heard the way he said  _ It _ , capitalised, identified.

"Whatever It was," Ben took over, giving It the same treatment, "the turtle saved us from It."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, and don't forget to kudos/comment!


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